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... orched bones and charred silence. Ash drifted lazily in the air like dying snow.

Sybil led the exhausted group of witches and the rest of the Guardians, their robes torn and stained with dirt and dried blood. Their potions were gone.

Their stamina was drained. But their will—their will hadn't cracked just yet.

"We should've found Zayne by now," muttered one of the witches behind her, panting between each word.

"We've walked for hours..."

Sybil didn't look ...

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